


daydreaming

by staticfiction



Category: Day6 (Band)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, shameless fluff
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-06-01
Packaged: 2019-11-16 02:48:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 17,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18086003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/staticfiction/pseuds/staticfiction
Summary: daydream (noun), a pleasant visionary usually wishful creation of the imaginationOr: just a bunch of fluffy drabbles and oneshots for when you need a good dose of warm and fuzzy feelings.





	1. Young K | untitled

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> for Mae

 

The problem with Brian Kang is this: he _leans_.

The act in itself is innocuous. People lean. But when Brian Kang does it, it isn’t merely an act of displacement, of getting to one place from another, or an objective act of reaching for or avoiding something. Anything. When Brian does it, it’s an invasion of space. It’s his breath on your cheek, eyes intent on you, and his entire body closing in like an avalanche you can’t escape.

It’s an ambush.

Slowly, Brian shifts his weight from one side of his body to the other, anchors his shoulder against the wall, and purses his lips in thought. It’s become a game he likes to play. How long does to take to make you squirm? As always, it’s rather unfair how good he is at it. Doesn’t matter that you’re made of ice and cannot be moved. Every time Brian is within your bubble, all sense leaves the building. And at this moment, none of your sanity is left when he lifts a hand, lays it flat against the old brick, and traps you between his arm and the corner.

But of course, you will never, _never_ , give him the satisfaction of getting under your skin.

Or at least, not out loud.

“So,” he breathes, barely restraining the amusement in his voice. “What do you think?”

This close, your eyes are level with his lips. You force your eyes up from the lines of his varsity jacket to the sharp lines and planes of his face. Bad idea. Brian’s feline eyes are focused on you— were his lashes always that dark and long?—  that glint of mischief ever so _annoying_. “I think it’s a terrible idea.”

“Wanna bet?”

“See, that negates the entire point of _this_ being a bad idea—”

“I help you. You help me. It’s a win-win situation,” Brian says, breath dipping low and close and hot against your cheek.

You refuse to acknowledge that tingle of electricity running up your spine. Once again, you look up— straight at his eyes— to stare defiantly at him. “Disagree.”

“Would it help if I say please? I’m _desperate_. Help a guy out.”

To be fair, he does sound in dire need of your help.

But really, the question here is: how desperate are _you_?

“Why do I get the feeling I’m getting the short end of the stick here.” As in, it will be you in a constant state of paranoia and stress for the duration of this _whatever_ brilliant idea this upsettingly gorgeous boy has unleashed. On _you_. Of all people.

Brian tilts his head, pouts his lips, and scrunches his nose. It’s the unholy trifecta for a mind-numbing mind-trick only the weak of will ever falls for.  “Please?”

Damn. You’re going to hell for this, probably. “For the record, I hate you.”

For a second, you just stare at him. Then Brian laughs.

You’re doomed and you know it.

 


	2. Wonpil | if you like your coffee hot let me be your coffee pot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> if you like your coffee hot, let me be your coffee pot  
> day6 | coffee shop au | fluff, shameless fluff

 

They say it takes twenty-one days to form a habit. They don’t say how long it takes to unlearn one.

“The usual,” you say even before you’re properly in front of the register. The words feel pretentious coming from your lips, but it’s always too late to take them back. Anyway, you’ve been frequenting this coffee shop for the past couple of months— it’s almost embarrassing how you always order the exact same drink, sit in the exact same spot, and do the exact same thing.

Wonpil’s gaze flits between you and the touch screen, his lips curved into his usual effervescent smile. He says nothing, takes your payment, hands back your change and your receipt, and smiles even brighter as you make your way to your seat. Both of you say nothing, as is your habit. At the back of your mind, you think there might be something different today, but you don’t really have the spare energy to think about it much.

The coffee shop is small and cutesy and homey and just perfect. And you, in your oversized knit sweater and pink bunny socks peeking from your sneakers, fit in just right. As you wait for your coffee, you set up shop for the day: your laptop, your notebook, an assortment of pens in every imaginable colour.  _ Today will be a productive day _ , you think.

Minutes later, longer than the usual, you look up from organizing your desk in search of your coffee. You see Wonpil duck under the counter and out, grab your drink from his workmate who prepared it, and make his way to you.  _ This _ is new. So new, you both take a moment to acknowledge, without lips agape and eyes flitting back and forth, that the novelty takes you both by surprise. 

You reach out instead, a vision of you palming the warmth between your hands as you work overcoming your immediate flight response. The cup dips off-center to the side and your mind flashes cold and tense as the slip of air whooshes between the sides of the paper cup and your fingers. A slight gasp escapes his lips as he catches the bottom of the paper cup in his palm, it is followed by another gasp when the hot liquid splashes onto his wrist. He lifts the cup and closes his palms around yours to secure your grip. You stare at each other, not quite sure how to do anything else. You both know you can’t hold on to this moment, yet neither of you are the first to break free.

The sound of his relieved, albeit nervous, laughter shatters the moment. 

Mustering your will, you take a breath and breathe out a  _ thank you _ . Just loud enough for him to hear.

You watch him nod and walk back to his station, all the while the memory of his touch still lingers on your skin. All at once, it feels as if everything has changed though no cosmic event has transpired. But you know it. He knows it. And you think to yourself, perhaps silence too can be unlearned.

 


	3. Sungjin | sunday mornings

 

There is quiet here, in the space between dreaming and awake found within the warmth of Sungjin’s embrace. Or at least there would be, were he there tangled in the sheets with you as he should. Instead, you wake up to the smell of breakfast in the small kitchen of your studio apartment, to a voice humming to a tune that sounds a lot like the first of summer.

You find him behind the counter, basked in a warm yellow glow as he plates a handful of your favorite fruit. The sun always did love Sungjin more, always spending a little more time shining on him than anyone else. And like this, held against the sunlight, you see what he will never reveal to anyone else but you. Few will look at sturdily built, rough-hewn Park Sungjin and think soft. But he is, brutally so, deep down. There are parts of him spun from sugar and held together with hope—and those bits are fragile indeed.

Your approach is slow, unhurried, unafraid of the focus he places on you as he watches you come to him. But your eyes remain on his hands, fingers long and strong, and just a little crooked. Finding purchase on the edge of the counter, you prod him to continue. You could watch him all day, revel in the little discoveries like a scientist obsessed. And this is how you love him, with reckless, impudent abandon. Everything you have, and everything you are, screamed out to reach out for him. But you don’t. Not yet.

He dips his head to press his nose beneath your ear as a laugh escapes his lips. Good morning, indeed. You reach up, gently trailing your fingertips on the side of his jaw, leaning into him and invading more of his space.

There is quiet here, in the moments between the ends of his breaths and the beginnings of yours. There is magic, even in the mundanity of mornings and breakfast, and bananas on pancakes. It seems impossible that he can love you like this, be perfect with you like this, and still know there is more.

His lips find yours in a kiss that is long and lush, ending in a sigh and a caress and breakfast being forgotten on the counter in favor of crisp white linen on your back. He is where he should be, tangled in the sheets with you.

 

 


	4. Sungjin | summer things

 

i. This is how you like him the most: Sungjin, in a white shirt so old the fabric is stretched thin from use, dark grey pyjama bottoms slung low on his hips, and his beloved acoustic, Atom, cradled in his strong arms. In bed like this, you think, they are more than man and guitar, instead they are two halves joined together with curves fitting perfectly together like puzzle pieces that belong with each other. Closing your eyes, you take in the translucent cascading music, crisp and light notes fluttering in the air like sea mist rising from a breaking wave. Something about him always did sound like summer.

_ Shouldn’t you be studying _ ? he says with a soft strum and a voice so hushed you wouldn’t think he often needed to be loud.

Should, being the operative word here. You stretch out on the single bed and your elbows mangle your readings with a crunch of paper. Your feet bump into his ankles and your nose dives deeper into your pillow. You inhale lungfuls of his scent, holding in each breath until you feel the fire burn down the inside of your ribs. You’d drown in him if he’d let you.

_ You’re supposed to be studying _ , he patiently chides. But his words don’t match his actions.

The music fades into the white noise--the hum of electricity and the distant echoes of the night beyond your window--and the bed dips as Sungjin stows Atom and your stack of papers safely away. He lets out a contented sigh and a noise from the back of his throat as he sinks down to lay next to you. With his temple resting on the heel of his palm, Sungjin’s warm eyes on you are both familiar and invasive. It’s months before either of you take to the looks and the touches, and truth be told you’re both still working on the the kisses and the  _ more _ . But this.  _ This _ . His eyes on you is more than enough

Feeling brave, you come closer, close enough to feel his heart beating slow and steady in his chest, and slip your head under the crook of his arm. You don’t fit quite right, crudely placed together with sharp edges clashing with soft parts, but his fingers tangle in the ends of your hair and it’s beginning to feel  _ just right _ . Maybe, just maybe, you fit snuggly together like the way the rough edges of the city are softened in the moments the sunset blends into the night. When the imperfections disappear as the colors fold together, and all that is left is the glow of your wholeness are you made perfect.

 

ii. When pressed to describe they way you met, the first word that comes to mind is  _ boring _ . At a coffee shop you both frequent and weeks after you’ve noticed each other across the room. It took time, stolen glances and averted gazes, secret whispered confessions, and missed heartbeats before you sat across each other, albeit tables apart, and exchanged shy smiles. From smiles, you moved to awkward conversations, and from conversations you found a semblance of home.

And now a year later, sitting together at the park with ice cream cones each, you can’t help but think the best things in life take time. Like continents that live slowly and spread out according to their time.

When you catch him looking at you today, Sungjin doesn’t turn away and allows you to peek into those lovely warm eyes of his. It’s no exaggeration when you say his gaze on you feels like the sun and when his eyes are on you in silent bliss like this, you can’t help but fall deeper in love.

He leans in and ever so lightly it’s barely a touch, his lips skim yours and a burst of sticky sweetness lingers a few seconds too long.

Plain vanilla.

But being with him is anything but.

 

iii. Sungjin likes to say he doesn’t trust himself when he’s with you. Not when it’s three in the morning, you’re tangled in his limbs, and the soft puffs of your breath on his skin are misbehaving. But nights like these, ensconced in his sweater and smelling of him, are your favorite because it means twinkling laughter and more of his summer eyes telling you everything will be okay. It means hours being pressed against his warm body, safe and secure, as his raspy voice fills in the spaces in between.

It’s endless conversations and sighs punctuated by pecks on the lips and nuzzles on the crook of his neck. Of stories about rehearsals and previews of this new song he wrote, and that thing that happened at work today and that waking up seems to take more effort than usual. Sungjin never misses the notes in your words and whispers words of reassurance and concern. It’s here that fear takes over, for where there is light darkness lurks.

But none of it really matters when you’re bubble-wrapped in his arms so you press your lips on the underside of his jaw, pepper kisses on his neck with bargaining words asking him to stay a little longer. Asking, without using so much words, that maybe he could stay forever. For however long forever may be. Be it when the night ends or when the sun rises, or when you fall asleep, or maybe when you realize you have to.

_ Maybe it’s when the song finally ends _ , he says when you ask him. But it’s never just the one song when it comes to him so maybe the song never really ends until you decide it does.

Somewhere in between, his lips skim your cheek, then his nose skims your nose. As you sigh, what follows are slow insistent kisses, soft lips gliding over yours before parting and leaving gentle nibbles. And then another, and then more. Long slender fingers weave in your hair and your fist knots into the fabric of his shirt when his lips trace a path down the column of your neck. Tugging at his clothes, your hands explore the skin beneath them and draw maps to find your way around his ragged breaths and hums.

You’d give in if he so much as asks, but he never does. At least not tonight, he whispers.

Tonight, all he wants is to sleep next to you. So that’s all you do.

 

iv. There are nights you believe Sungjin has finally seen through you. These are the nights you wait for him to pack up and leave, but he never does. Even when the summer has passed and you’re down to your last drop of sunshine, he isn’t afraid of the stormclouds brewing beneath your skin. These are the nights he holds you firmly because all you’ve known how to do is leave. The mornings you wake up trapped in his embrace because all you’ve known how to do is run. And on the days you feel like giving up, he is the challenge you must overcome because all you’ve known how to do is make excuses.

You’re afraid you might be happy. That after years you’ve taught yourself to be hard so no one can hurt you, you’re turning soft.

But you look at Sungjin and you think there is strength in remaining brutally soft.

 

v. It’s summer again and all you can think of now is how summer suits Sungjin the best. You’re both sensitive summer things, sun and saltwater. Blushing blue like oceans in love, peaceful and wild at the same time. It’s only ever in his mouth that you come undone. What could ever be more perfect that the sun asking you out?

You never want this feeling to end.

And neither does he.

 


	5. Young K | untitled

 

Pushing your hair back for the umpteenth time, you glower at the stubborn strands that still managed to make their way out of your hairclip. A lifetime later, and you’ve yet to master the art of taming the beast that resides on top of your head. Meanwhile, your peers have not only unlocked the secrets of the hair gods/goddesses/deities/all other omnipotent beings, they have also perfected their makeup. With a huff, you hold your fringe back with your hand and revert your attention to the next three chapters you need to master to maintain a semblance of control over your study schedule. The day of the last of your exams, and also the most important one, draws near and you didn’t put 70 hours a week staying in school this semester for nothing. Thus, the library has become your fortress, and whether it was pathetic or admirable, you didn’t have time to ponder.

You were pretty good at that, sometimes. When it counts, at least. At filtering out the unwanted in favor of what needs to be done. Maybe when you were younger, you let the small stuff bother you relentlessly until you were a crying screaming mess of incoherencies and your mom or dad had to pick you up from the floor and bribe you with cake and ice cream to calm you down. But you were a proper almost-adult now. You had a better handle at Life.

Which is to say, you have about as much control over your Life as you do over your hair.

You’ve read somewhere— or was it something you heard in a lecture— that humans have evolved a complex system to unconsciously detect threats and avoid them. Your brain, beautiful the organ that it is, uses millions of years of data stored in your DNA to determine whether or not a person was a threat to your being. So that’s what happens when, just as you’re getting in the zone of equations and calculations, an intruder encroaches on your sacred space.

The library has four levels above ground and two levels below. The reserved section, your favorite place to study, which is a sublevel mezzanine is only accessible through certain staircases. You’ve built your empire in this space. It’s private, with little to no phone service. The perfect place to study undisturbed.

That’s not the case, currently.

Someone takes the seat on the far side of the long wooden table, pulls out his books and his laptop, and proceeds to work as if he has not just committed a heinous crime. You scowl at him, about as much (possibly more) as you’ve been glowering at your hair, but the intruder remains unfazed and starts tack-tack-tacking away at his keyboard.

“It’s a library,” Brian says, without turning to face you. He presses his lips together, as if to stop himself from saying something else. Perhaps to stop himself from laughing out loud. “We’ve had this conversation. You can’t make me leave without incriminating yourself in the process.”

You scrunch your nose in the process of deciding on what to say. Brian has been using the same space for about as long as you have. He argues that he’s been sneaking out into the Reserved Stacks before you even discovered it, but that the two of you have just never crossed each other’s paths until earlier in the year. Partially because neither of you were technically allowed to be there in the first place. You’ve seen him before, though. Randomly at the shared spaces of the university, sometimes at the cafeteria with his friends, and once or twice during university festivals when his band would perform on stage. Okay, maybe you’ve seen them perform more than once or twice, at clubs and sometimes busking on the streets. But we digress.

“I didn’t say anything,” you answer.

You didn’t say anything the first time either. You just kept passive-aggressively hinting at Brian’s unwanted presence through pointed looks and choreographed chair and table noises. He didn’t seem to get the message until mid-semester and he turned to you, amused look and all, and asked “Are you alright? You sound like you’re choking on a hairball”. As if you weren’t total strangers and he wasn’t invading your privacy.

You’ve seen him perform on the streets before that day, busking for acknowledgment instead of money. If not for your friend who wanted to stop and listen, you wouldn’t have given them two minutes of your time. Until that is, you heard their music. There was an instant likeability to them. Perhaps, though you would deny this out loud, it had to do with Brian. He has a face that everyone wants to look at. Feline eyes that always conveyed more than they should.

Right now, they conveyed a poorly muted victory. 

“You were thinking it,” he says above the clacking of his fingers on his keyboard. “Just let me finish this paper and I’ll leave you alone. I have deadlines just like you.”

An hour passes by and neither of you have moved from your designated spots. You realize you’ve made decent headway with your work, and Brian’s typing has finally subsided to white noise behind you.

 

The next time you run into Brian is the day after. It’s nighttime, and you both just happen to be at the only twenty-four hour cafe within the vicinity. You’re going through a worksheet, beastmode on, pencil flying through the answers, when you get distracted by the tinkle of the bell above the door followed by boisterous laughter. It’s the first time you see Brian, as Brian a regular guy with his friends, since the last time you’ve seen them busking.

He looks at you from where he stood in line with his friends. Looks at you, and you realize it’s because you were looking at him first. You freeze for a second, not prepared to get caught in this situation, unaware of how to even proceed. Nowhere in your books does it say how to respond accordingly, and you at that moment you think, with striking clarity, that this is what you should have been taught at school. But Brian just flicks his brows and his lips quirk into a tight-lipped smile. You’re not sure how to respond. For one, it’s not as if you were friends or anything. Not even acquaintances. You were just two people who sometimes inadvertently spend hours upon hours within two feet of each other at the same space at the same time.

Really, the only reason you knew his name was Brian— just Brian because you’ve never really gone out of your way to learn his last name— is because you’ve seen the name written in big graffiti-style letters on his binder. And maybe because their band has reached some level of pre-fame, and just about everyone was talking about Brian. But that’s irrelevant. To you, at least. What’s relevant is studying. Because your future depended on it.

He tosses his head at you. Some gesture to acknowledge your presence. You do your best not to react out of proportion. There Brian was, enjoying a night out with his friends. They probably went to, or are on the way to, some party. Or perhaps a movie. Meanwhile you were still stuck with books and notes, and when was the last time you were out with friends? You try your best not to look like you’re feeling sorry for yourself and raise one brow, just enough to convey that you’ve seen his gesture but you’re currently not available for conversation.

Brian’s blonde friend, the tall and lanky one with the odd choice of glasses nudges him with his elbow and excitedly whispers something to him. To this, their responsible looking friend tells them off for something or another. Brian looks guilty for a split-second. That’s when you tell yourself to look away.

“Good luck with your exams,” Brian says as he passes by you on the way out. You look up at him, at his friends who have gone ahead and are waiting for him outside the door.

“Thanks,” you croak. At this point you ask yourself when was the last time you had an actual conversation. With anyone?

Brian stalls for another moment. Like he has something else to say. But what could he possibly say to you? And would there be for you to say to him?  _ I’m busy _ you want to say, but that sounds insensitive especially after he wished you luck. Although, luck? Luck made it sound like you were rolling dice instead of answering an exam made of questions you’ve spent months studying the answers to.

“You’ll do great,” he says after a while.

“Thanks?”

In the end you offer what you hope is a grateful smile. Brian nods, maybe to himself, and heads off to join his friends. through the glass pane windows, you watch as their backs grow smaller in the distance, all until they disappear round the corner. Just as they turned, Brian’s head tilts to the side, and you let yourself think he’s looking back at you. But that’s ridiculous and you file it away as your imagination.

 

You’re still thinking about your awkward encounter with Brian the day after. That would be two days before your major exam, and he’s become an odd distraction, one you can’t quite define if annoying in a fly in your ear sense or in a plank in your eye sense. But then, when you really think about it, he always has been some sort of annoying prick.

There was that one encounter a month or two ago. You were at your usual spot, reviewing the day’s lesson and doing your homework, when Brian came in and immediately hit the books. Or at least you thought he did. Somewhere in the middle of a particularly complicated set of exercises, you noticed that he was staring at you. Such an invasion of your privacy was not welcome at all, and you angled yourself away from his prying eyes. You poised your pencil on your workbook, but the your brain started to fuzz.

You turned to him, matching his pointed glare.

“Do you need help with that?” he asked, finally breaking the awkward silence.

You did, but that wasn’t the point. You felt your face heat up. It  _ was _ getting warm in the stacks. Not because Brian was looking at you or because he’s offered to help you. You look back at your worksheet, notice a rip on the page, then look back up at him. His eyes glance at the torn page, and his face lights up with something not quite teasing but close. You avert your gaze right away. Next thing you know, Brian is hovering over your shoulder, pointing out the deficiencies in your math and half of you wants to stab him with your freshly sharpened pencil, the other half of you is already writing down a new solution that actually makes sense even to you.

“You…” you started, not quite sure how this conversation would go. If at all. “You’re good at this.”

The tips of his ears burn pink, then he scratches the tip of his nose and that too turns into a similar shade of pink. His eyes flit away, roams the table, and then looks back at you. “I took this class last semester. Do you still need help?”

For a moment, you considered that he was going a little too out of his way. Did you really look that pathetic? Were you unknowingly screaming out frustrations? Were you too loud? Did you disturb the quiet the two of you had established? You wondered, too, if you were overthinking this. Brian did offer to help. And you needed it.

“Is that really okay?”

He smiled at you, and it’s like the first time you’ve really seen him smile.

 

You see Brian again on the night before your exam. Or rather, he sees you. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does you barely see it coming. You’re frozen in your seat, but this time your fists are balled tight and you’re forcing yourself not to cry. You’re staring at your shoes, and you think you’ve worn them too much but also that you’ve really gotten nowhere in them. You hair falls over your face again and this time, you don’t even push it back anymore. You just want to curl up and hide away. No more studying.

But if you don’t study, then you won’t pass your test. If you don’t pass your test, you won’t graduate. If you don’t graduate, you won’t get a good job. If you don’t get a good job, you won’t get a decent and stable salary. If you don’t get a decent and stable salary with viable options for pay raises and promotions, you won’t get the life that you want. If you don’t get the life that you want, you won’t be happy. If you’re not happy, no one can love you and you can’t afford to be in a relationship. And then you’ll be alone forever. And then you’re dead.

What’s worse will be the look of disappointment on your parents’ faces. Maybe, out of all the consequences, that’s what you can’t handle the most.

A hand on your shoulder momentarily brings you back to reality. It feels like you haven’t seen him for longer than a day, but you can’t believe that it really is Brian looking back at you with a concerned expression on his face. Also, panic. And, understanding. Brian goes down on his knees so your eye-level with respect to each other.

“You’re not okay.” It’s not a question. How would it be? It’s obvious by the tears staining your cheek. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“It’s not.”

“You shouldn’t even be here. You should be resting. Your exam’s tomorrow, right?”

“I have to study!”

“You’ve been studying for that past week. You’ve studied enough.” Brian says this with a smile so bright, you’re tempted to believe him. “You should be resting.”

“I can’t. What if I fail?”

“You won’t.”

“What if I  _ do _ ?”

“Hey.”

“What if I’m not enough?”

Brian lays both hands on your shoulder, and you look up at him, meet his gaze. The moment feels important, but you’re short on explanations as to why. You don’t really know Brian, and likewise Brian doesn’t really know you. Yet here you are now.

“You will always be enough. You will always be good enough, have done enough. You’re always going to be as good as you need to be.”

“But what if I’m not?”

He beams at you anyway. “You will be.”

You’re tempted to believe him. Really, truly you are. Inside, you feel a little warm. A little dizzy.

“Tell you what.” He adjusts his position on the floor, his right hand closed in a light fist drops to your kneecap. “We’ll celebrate if you do real good, okay?”

“And if I fail?”

“Then, we’ll have a party for that, too.”

You scoff at him, not intentionally. But you could tell that he meant every word. That he believed in you in ways you could never bring yourself to believe in you.

“See?” Brian tucks your hair behind your ear, his fingers lingering too long at the ends. “We’ll have a party either way. It’ll be great. You’ll do great. And if you don’t which I doubt, we’ll just do over. It’s not the end of the world.”

He’s still smiling at you as you process his words. Slowly, you feel a smile breach your face. And then you’re both smiling at each other. You notice then, that Brian doesn’t have his usual things with him. As if he came here just to find you.

Brian, the beautiful person that he is, stands up, offers his hand. And you take it.

 

 


	6. Young K | untitled

 

It was everything Brian wanted and more. Granted, it took him about seventeen attempts, Jae embarrassing himself more than half the time, Sungjin staring him down and lecturing them all about propriety and decency and all that lot, and Wonpil exhausting his sunshine reserve just to keep them all from ripping each other’s throats out. And for what? For Brian to finally wring out a love confession is what.

Dowoon...Dowoon was there, too. In fact, Dowoon was everywhere, omniscient and omnipotent. Had Brian known Dowoon was the answer to all his problems, he would have turned to the maknae first. But nevermind. (More on that later. Really, that boy.)

Moving on...

It started with a guitar. Actually, it started with Boy Meets Girl (Doesn’t it always? Except maybe when it doesn’t, but that too is besides the point). In any case, Brian was our boy, and there existed a girl (said girl being you, let’s get that straightened out early on) and a guitar in a bustling park somewhere along the beating heart of the university district.

But first,  _ in medias res _ :

They were going busking.

Going out busking always felt like an elementary school production, the type your homeroom adviser and everyone’s mom had to prepare for the night before. No matter how many times Brian has gone out to the streets to perform, he would always feel a small flutter of excitement at the prospect. Even a year after their first performance, and multiple mini-shows in between, it always felt like a Big Deal. Always like the First Time. In the case of the apartment Brian shared with four other guys, it was Sungjin who did the obligatory nagging the Friday night before The Day.

Equipment check, body check, double check, triple check. Brian was barely listening anymore. He had, in Jae’s words, other plans afoot.

“So my friend,” said Jae slinking next to Brian on the latter’s designated spot on the floor. Jae was a tangle of limbs upon himself, gangly and awkward without his spectacles and his guitar. “What’s our approach this time?”

Brian was vaguely conscious of Dowoon’s eyes set upon them from where he lay on the futon set against the wall across them. Quiet and observant the maknae always was, a trait often left as a thing of the past as Dowoon became more comfortable (read: savage) around the older boys.

“I think I’ll just ask her out?”

“Dude, no.”

Brian frowned. “Why not?”

“Where’s the flare? Where’s the drama? Girls love that sort of shit.”

“I don’t think so?”

In any case, Brian did not trust Jae’s judgment regarding the opposite sex. Or anything that concerned his well-being, really. Except maybe guitars, and riffs and licks, the occasional bars he adds to an especially difficult metre... Admittedly, there’s possibly more than the above mentioned that Brian is willing to acknowledge as Jae growing list of multiple talents, but we digress.

“Bro, I got this. Trust me.”

“No,” Brian shook his head harder than he intended. “No. Not after The Ramyun Incident.”

“Oh come on, you can’t still be upset about that.”

Brian didn’t even have the heart to look back to said Incident lest he relive the worst parts of it. “Sorry, no. Can’t risk Sungjin going Hulk all over again. It’s just not worth it.”

Jae sent a perfunctory glance at the kitchen table where their designated leader, single father, and sometimes Only Sane Man in the group (debatable, Jae asserts) discussed logistics with Wonpil. “Are you sure? I think I kinda like him in beast mode. Could help move things along with you-know-who--”

“ _ You _ should probably move things along with you-know-who--”

“Shush, my friend.” Jae held up a  finger and Brian flinched, thinking it were to be placed against his lips. The last time Jae attempted such, they ended up with a mouthful of nails against teeth. “This isn’t about me, this is about you.”

With an inward sigh, Brian resigned his fate to the universe. Sungjin nagged, Wonpil listened; Jae plotted; and Dowoon watched. And Brian? Brian hoped for the best.

 

_ Six months ago _

There was a girl in their spot. Granted, Brian’s (or any of member’s) name was in no way or form in documented ownership or lease of the aforementioned piece of land in question so thus he had no legal claims to it. However, it’s been the same spot Day6 has been busking at since their official incarnation six months ago, and their audience knew this was the place to find them every third Saturday night of the month. It was the unspoken rule of Busking: Thou shalt not steal another performer’s spot and timeslot.

The girl--plain white shirt, distressed jeans, and ponytail--was bobbing her head self-consciously to the beat of her strumming. She had gathered a small crowd, a handful of people who stopped to listen to her guitar covers of idol hits. Curiously enough, she wasn’t singing. In the middle of the loud noisy street filled with hip-hop dance covers, belted out high notes, and popstar would-bes, this girl, of all things, chose to play her guitar arrangements neat and dry.

“Sounds good,” Dowoon commented from behind him. “She sounds good, right?”

Brian nodded, unsure of how he was supposed to take the situation. On one hand, this girl was in their spot, still in their spot with no obvious intention of leaving to vacate in time for Day6’s usual timeslot. But on the other hand, her eyes were fluttering close, her lips gaping the slightest as she got into a particularly complex section of music. Wanting to hear more, Brian leaned closer.

“She’s cute,” Jae added. “She’s just your type, I think.”

Brain raised a brow askance.

“What?” Jae shrugged. “She is, isn’t she?”

Brian sent him a long-suffering look. “I don’t think that's relevant right now.”

Jae barely stifled a grimace. “It's always relevant, my friend. Especially when your future girlfriend’s in our spot encroaching on our timeslot.”

“Shut up, Jae.”

The more Brian listened, the more he refused to budge. Her music was a slow soft melody, easy on the ears and easy to fill the gaps in the spaces of his insides. It filled him like smoke, made it hard to breathe. Brian stayed mesmerized through the next two songs, not even noticing the fluid transition in between. He spent the rest of the time imagining who she is, where she came from, and how she got to this very spot they were in. He wondered if she could sing, if she were hiding this special talent because the world would never be ready for it.

“Guys! Guys!” 

Startled, Brian flipped over to the voice that interrupted his thoughts. Wonpil pulled at the back of Brian’s sleeve. “Sungjin found a spot for us over there.”

Brian didn’t bother looking towards the direction Wonpil pointed at. “Ah, he did?” Of course, Sungjin did. Park Sungjin was efficient like that. It’s why he made all the plans.

“He did?”

“Yeah, let’s go?” Wonpil turned to leave, but ended up standing awkwardly with one foot set to go while the other foot was set to stay. “You’re not going?”

It’s Jae that answered, a teasing lilt to his voice. “We’re sort of enjoying the performance right here. Except for Brian. Brian is  _ fully _ enjoying the performance right here.”

Brian dug his elbow into Jae’s side, his bone connecting with a rib and it was him who was wincing in pain instead of his intended target. “This is our spot,” he retaliated, quite lamely.

“Right, and you were just making sure we get to play at our usual spot and not at all low-key, trying-not-to-be-obvious, creeping on on your future--”

“I’m just making sure we get to play at our spot because everyone knows it’s our spot and other buskers should respect that!”

Brian was a calm individual. Rarely did anything ever ruffle his metaphorical feathers. But he was not immune to panic, and panic he did. Much to his chagrin.

“I get it,” answered an annoyed voice from behind him. “It’s your goddamn spot. Take it.”

Brian was met with flashing dark eyes, and he opened his mouth to apologize but the world stuttered around him and nothing that would have come out would have been remotely coherent. The girl’s sideswept bangs gave way to a small heart-shaped face with wide eyes and a cute upturned nose. Her guitar hung over one shoulder, seemingly too big for her now that it was held upright against her. Despite himself, Brian couldn’t help but think how much he liked the way her shirt stretched across her chest, straining at her shoulders and underneath the strap of her guitar.

For a moment, he felt his heart stop when their eyes settled into each other’s.

“His name’s Brian, in case you were wondering,” said Jae, interrupting their staring contest. 

“It’s YoungK.” The correction slipped out before Brian could even mentally process the thought. It came too automatically these days, he felt like banging his head against the graffiti’d wall. Brian had a feeling that Jae had done it on purpose, too.

Her brows furrowed. “What?”

“Nothing,” said Brian, clapping his hand over Jae’s shoulder to lead him away from the mess they were already one foot through the door in. “We were just leaving.”

Wonpil, all smiles, didn’t ask for an explanation, thankfully. He silently lead them through the crowd and to the other end of the strip where a less than pleased Sungjin awaited.

(Now see, had Brian taken a moment to look behind him, he would have seen what had transpired outside his periphery. But let’s not get ahead of the story.)

 

_ Fifteen minutes before Busking _

Brian was never not nervous when he had to perform. It was the Irony of the Artist versus Stage Fright. It wasn’t just him, though for the purposes of this discussion let’s focus on Brian’s nervous habits. They weren’t obvious except for the trained eye, and perhaps that’s what made it worse.

“Are you okay?” Wonpil asked. “What’s wrong?”

Jae snickered from somewhere behind them. Brian chose to ignore it for the sake of his sanity. “I’m fine, Wonpil,” he said. “Just the usual nerves, you know?”

Wonpil did know. “You’ll be okay.” Then Wonpil grins at him as if that’s all Brian needs to get through the day.

Jae choked on a snort, and good for him, Brian thought.

 

_ Four months ago _

“You promised,” she whined.

Indeed, Brian had. But for what exactly, he wasn’t so sure now. He hadn’t been paying attention, but that had less to do with his attention span or his interest and more to do with the fact that she was so beautiful. Brian was certain he has never met anyone quite like her. He wasn’t listening because he couldn’t take his eyes off her. Not her pink lips, the faint blush on her cheeks.

“I did.”

The cafe was cutesy and just the right kind of hipster to attract a specific crowd. It was the type with potted plants on the window sills and weird artisan drinks presented in a handwritten chalkboard menu. Brian wasn’t sure if he was part of the target market, but he was here for a completely different reason so he probably didn’t count.

She rolled her eyes and jut out her lower lip. “You forgot, didn’t you?”

“I didn’t.” Brian was quick to his defense because, after all, one did not forget what one was not aware of. Right?

She rolled her eyes once more and huffed a breath. “You are hopeless. What am I going to do with you?”

Brian knew an opening when he saw one, and thus acted accordingly. “You can’t leave me on my own now, can you?”

She narrowed her eyes at him, an act that scrunched up her nose. Brian was beside himself, heart clenching and nerves fraying. He was a sap. Hopeless. Utterly hopeless. Jae could never find out about this. “Can I just preemptively make it up to you instead?”

“Well, it’s the least you could do.”

Brian stayed for another drink at the cafe, listening to her next set, a mix of covers and originals. This time she sang, and Brian spared no moment to look away even once. Her voice was a soft, sweet melody that spilled from her lips. A little dark. A little husky. A voice that made Brian want to listen forever.

Now, Brian remembered what promise he had broken. 

“Don’t come to my shows,” she had said. This conversation happened at a park bench somewhere by the river a week or so after their first meeting. Brian had run into her while he was out on a jog Dowoon convinced him to take. She had been there, sitting, composing. He didn’t realize he was creeping on her until she pointed it out.

“Why not?” Brian had asked this after asking why she didn’t sing when she busked. Or anyway, why she didn’t sing the first time he saw her busking.

“Just don’t,” she insisted. “It’s weird.”

“But isn’t that counterintuitive? Coming out to perform at a coffee shop is asking for the attention. Like when you busk out on the street. You don’t go out there to not get noticed?”

“That’s...just...promise me you won’t.”

Brian had lost count of how many times he had broken that promise. They stayed for another couple of hours after her set. He helped her pack up while she transferred her earnings from her tip jar and into her purse. Brian offered to buy her a drink, and she let him.

“I heard your demo,” she said, sipping her drink. She looked out the window as she spoke. “Not bad.”

“That’s it?” he answered, eyes darting out to the streets in search of what had gotten her attention. “Not bad? That’s your professional review?”

“Mhm,” she hummed, cup still poised at her lips.

“That’s helpful.”

She laughed, and it was the sweetest sound.

 

_ Five minutes before Busking _

“Dude, Bro, why are you so nervous?”

Brian chose to ignore it. His stomach was forming impossible knots, and now wasn’t a time to be feelings like a middle school boy with a crush. Though he might as well be. Perhaps that would justify the embarrassment he was willingly and knowingly about to put himself through.

“Has anyone seen Dowoon?” Sungjin’s interruption was a welcome one. “He was right here just a moment ago.”

Jae shrugged. “Did we lose him again?”

Brian searched the afternoon crowd for any sign of their drummer. His cajon was set up right next to Wonpil’s synthesizers, and Wonpil is where he should be, sitting quietly on his stool. A small crowd had already gathered by the marina, some faces Brian thought were familiar, others were new. He couldn’t dwell on their listeners when something else--someone else--took precedence. It’s Dowoon, he reminded himself. Not pretty girls with pretty hands and beautiful voices. Not even girl _ s _ .  _ A _ girl. A very specific girl who wasn’t in attendance today. Not that he even asked, or anything.

A movement in his periphery caught his attention, and there he found their maknae jogging towards them from wherever it was he came from. For whatever reason, Brian chose to look beyond Dowoon, and there he found her.

“Sorry,” Dowoon said, raising his palms to placate their leader. “Noona got lost so I came to get her.”

Brian couldn’t find the words, so all he could come up with was “Explain.”

“Oh,” Dowoon looked behind him, at her who found a seat somewhere at the back of the bleachers. “Yesterday I asked her to play Rock-Paper-Scissors and I won, so I said Truth or Dare, and she she said Dare so I said she should come here today.”

Jae slapped his fist into his open palm. “Why didn’t  _ I _ think of that?”

Sungjin’s face, however, brought them back to business. Music first, confusing girls later. Especially ones that made him about a million times even more nervous than before.

 

_ Five minutes after Busking _

 

So he forgot his lyrics. Brian wasn’t going to get over that for a while. Sungjin said nothing, only shook his head and said to keep his focus next time. It happens, said their leader. There were worse things.

Like looking like a complete fool in front of the girl he likes. It occurred to him, that maybe this was one reason why she didn’t want him watching her play.  _ If only _ , he thought. If only she liked him the way she liked her.

She stayed behind even after the crowd had dispersed. Brian, on account of his conscience, volunteered to pack up the rest of the equipment. He was carrying an amp towards their van when she came up to him, looking more amused than he liked.

“You did well today.”

He didn’t know if she was being ironic or what. But Brian was too busy trying not to drop the very expensive amplifier to do anything else. “No, I didn’t. But thanks.”

“No, you were really good. I mean it.”

Brian lifts the amp into the cargo bed first before searching her eyes. She was sincere. Earnest, even. “Really? Thanks. I was nervous.”

“Yeah, I guess I know what that’s like.”

“You’re here.”

“Yes, I am.”

“Because Dowoon dared you?”

She laughed behind her hand. “I let him win that one, he sucks at Rock-Paper-Scissors.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “Because I knew he’d ask me to come here. Like he always does every time you guys go busking.”

Brian knew not what to make of that information. He wasn’t even aware Dowoon had this kind of casual relationship with her. (Now see, had Brian looked back that first time he’d have seen Dowoon talk to her, ask her if she’s that girl in that one class he was taking, and seen them exchange numbers for Brian’s sake.)  

“Dowoon does?” By now, Brian couldn’t be bothered by the curious stares he was receiving from his bandmates.

“Yeah, because apparently, we need to have a conversation about something.”

“We do?” Any normal circumstance, and his brain would be coming up with too many thoughts per second. But his mind was blank.

“I think…” She was looking at him like she was unsure, a little nervous. But why?

“Uh…”

“No, I know you like me.”

Brian bit his lips, but only because he didn’t want to smile like an idiot.

“But you’re not really doing anything about it. It’s been...what...months? Like, dude. I’ve been dropping hints like--”

“Do you want to go out with me? Like, right now?” he asks, standing straighter. Sungjin was probably going to nag his head off when he gets back to the dorm later, but he’ll deal with that when the time comes.

“Seriously, it’s about time.”

 

 


	7. Sungjin | It’s okay, I couldn’t sleep anyway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [100 Ways to Say I Love You](http://daysixdreams.tumblr.com/loveyoudrabbles)

 

Sungjin never noticed how the thin the walls were between his room and next unit until he hears you crying in the middle of the night. One night, he could let go. Everyone cries. But you’ve been crying yourself to sleep for about a week now and Sungjin’s quite had enough. Softly, he knocks on the wall separating your rooms.

“Hey, neighbor,” he asks. “Are you okay?”

“Sungjin?”

“Hey. What’s wrong? And don’t tell me nothing’s wrong. I know you’re not okay, I can hear you.”

A pause, and then a scuffle. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Sungjin rests his head against the wall, pressing his ear against the cold plaster. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“I don’t know how.”

“It’s okay. Just be honest and let it all out. I know...we haven’t really talked much but you can talk to me. I’ll listen to you. You don’t have to be afraid.”

Silence. Sungjin waits, and waits, and waits. He knocks again, “Hey, neighbor? Please answer me, I’m getting worried now.”

But then he hears a knock on the door, and Sungjin sails across the apartment and swings the door open. You stood in you pyjama bottoms and hoodie, eyes red with tears. With a shrug, you say, “Is it okay if we go out for...I don’t know. Ice cream? Bubble tea? Whatever’s open at 1AM.”

“It’s okay,” Sungjin says, grabbing a jacket and his keys. “I couldn’t sleep anyway.”

 

 


	8. Dowoon | watch your step

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [100 Ways to Say I Love You](http://daysixdreams.tumblr.com/loveyoudrabbles)

 

Dowoon can’t believe it’s happening, but it’s happening and he is not prepared for this at all. Maybe in some alternate universe, there exists a Yoon Dowoon that is capable of handling this situation with delicacy, and suaveness, and just the right amount of self-confidence. But this is not that universe. In this universe, Yoon Dowoon is an awkward turtle with no clue how to go on from here.

“Dowoon,” she says again, eyes wide as she looked up at him. He remembers, Jae said to him, eye contact is important. But if that’s too stressful, make it look like you’re making eye contact anyway. Dowoon chooses to focus at the tip of her nose, instead. “Did you hear me?”

Dowoon nods. He heard her surprisingly well, what with the deafening beats of his heart— they sounded like heavy bass pedals pounding his ears.

“Well?” she asks, still looking up at him.

They were on the bleachers, just a few steps away from the marina. A few paces away, he could see Wonpil watching them closely. Don’t be nervous, Wonpil said. There’s nothing to be nervous about, there really isn’t. False. There is a whole lot of everything to be nervous about. Dowoon can feel it, it’s a pitter-patter of kicks— hi-hat and snare— creeping up his veins.

“Dowoon?”

Just be yourself, Brian said. But how easy must it be to be yourself when you’re Brian Kang— er Kang Younghyun— YoungK— Dowoon is just simply Dowoon.

“I..er…”

Sungjin said something about this. What did Sungjin say about this?

She takes a step forward, a pout on her face. Dowoon, rightly so, panics and of all the things that comes out of his mouth, it just had to be, “Please watch your step.”

It sounds a lot like his cymbals crashing on his face.

“A yes or no would have been good.”

Ah. That’s right. Sungjin said, just always say ‘yes’.

“Yes,” Dowoon says, perhaps belatedly. “I…uh…yes.”

She laughs, and it sounds like the sweet tinkle of a triangle. (Of all percussion instruments, Dowoon thinks the triangle is most challenging, so maybe there’s a reason this is what he’s thinking of right now.) She meets his eyes, this time he lets himself look at her. Properly.

“Yes,” he repeats. Just to be sure. “We should go out for ice cream later.”

 


	9. Wonpil | Just because

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [100 Ways to Say I Love You](http://daysixdreams.tumblr.com/loveyoudrabbles)

 

Wonpil smiles and the rest of the world just fades away in a blinding white light. You think you should be used to it by now, but you also know, somehow, that you never will. Not in this lifetime, not in the next. You begin to think about what you could have possibly done in this life for someone like Kim Wonpil to come floating in, iridescent light and all. But you’re determined to hold on to him. To never let him go.

Tonight, the two of you are sitting on the steps of the marina— just sitting, enjoying the summer night sky, counting the stars, telling each other your secret dreams. Wonpil called you, seemingly out of the blue, to ask you to meet with him here, at your special spot. You asked him what for, but he didn’t answer. You asked him again earlier tonight what the occasion was, when you finally see him and the first thing he does is place a flower crown on top of your head. (It’s on his head now. It looks better on him anyway). Again, he says nothing, just smiles.

But maybe it doesn’t matter, because this right now is perfect. Wonpil’s fingers slip through the spaces of yours, and you sigh softly into him. Your interlaced hands are dangling on his knee, and you’re lined up against him, your head perfectly fitted at the crook of his neck.

“Why are you smiling so much?” you finally ask.

Wonpil hums, pokes your cheek, and says, “Just because.”

You begin to wonder when just because has been a good enough reason for anything. But this is some kind of perfect, and really, how could you possibly complain?

 


	10. Jae | I'm sorry, I didn't mean to

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [100 Ways to Say I Love You](http://daysixdreams.tumblr.com/loveyoudrabbles)

 

Jae knew better than try to change your mind, but the words had come out before he could consciously process them and now it was too late. Some words you just can’t take back. They were out there for you to claim however you wanted, or even not at all. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t meant to,” he said, eyes on his hands, on his shoes, his guitar, everywhere else but at you. Last night’s rain gathered in puddles, like muddy mirrors on the pavement, he thought he could still see the moon’s reflection from the night before.

As for you, you knew from the start this was a bad idea. And even then, you couldn’t think past the thought of holding him so close and misbehaving for days that it couldn’t have possibly been anything else but a dream. Now it was time to wake up and snap out of it.

“It’s okay,” you said, slowly treading water. “Don’t think about it...people say that all the time?”

But people like Jae didn’t say things like  _ “I think I love you” _ on a whim. Especially not to someone who made it clear from the start that things like love and relationships are off the table. Both of you had gone the deep-end last night, and while you managed to hold back, Jae had lost track and space and time.

“This was fun while it lasted,” you said. “I mean...get out as soon as there are feelings, right?”

You hoped there wouldn’t be reason to want out of this arrangement, but it was too good to be true. Jae was too good to be true. Holding someone’s body shouldn’t have to entail handling their heart as well.

“So this is it?” he asked quietly.

“Yeah.”

And you, all you could really think about is, 

_ How do you unbreathe a breath? _

 


	11. Jae | close your eyes and hold out your hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [100 Ways to Say I Love You](http://daysixdreams.tumblr.com/loveyoudrabbles)

 

You didn’t trust Jae with surprises. 

And for good reason. From the start, Jae had always been the kind of guy who, although sprouted several feet taller, would always be that kid who chased you around the playground with a frog in his hands.  _ Kiss the frog! _ He’d tease.  _ Maybe you’ll get your Prince Charming! _ So you believed in Happy Ever Afters, big deal. You would wear that badge loud and proud. What you weren’t proud of, was wanting (unrequitedly) that Happy Ever After with Jae.

So when your childhood friend of forever asks you to come to the rooftop of their apartment building, you come with your defenses up and your guard on high. Just because you two were proper working adults now (or anyway,  _ you _ were; Jae was in a band and that translates to playtime every time, but you digress) didn’t mean Jae wasn’t up to one of his pranks again.

Sungjin opened the door for you, tilting his head to welcome you into their home. Brian, who had been sprawled on the floor in those horrid old lady pants, jerked upright and pointed out to the window— the easiest way to the rooftop. Wonpil was standing guard, yelling something incoherent to Jae who was probably already upstairs. Dowoon was next to the water purifier, looking just as confused as you were— whether it was confusion over what this was all about or over the reason he was even standing there to begin with, was up in the air.

You made your way up, making a mental note to remind Jae to make sure that. should he start dating someone, said girl wouldn’t be afraid of heights should he decide to ask her up to the roof. “Jae?”

“Yo, over here.”

The roof was set as usual: a tent, some lights, crates that doubled as tables. Jae was sitting on an ancient lounge chair, cradling an unplugged Mery in his arms. You took your usual spot on the equally aged sofa. You suspected they just found the damn thing out on the curb and decided to bring it up here. There were several dubious stains you actively avoided sitting on.

“What’s this about?” you asked.

Jae sent you a lopsided grin. “Close your eyes and hold out your hands.”

“How about no?”

Jae rolled his eyes and scoffed. “I can’t surprise you if you won’t cooperate.”

“What do you want, Jae?” you made it so you sounded hassled, but you weren’t. Flustered was more like it.

“I would like for you to close your eyes and hold out your hand.”

This could go on forever, so with a resigned sigh you shut your eyes and warily thrust out your hand. “This had better not be something gross or I will murder you.”

You felt Jae stick something like a post-it note on your palm. “Okay, open your eyes.” He sounded...nervous? But why?

Gingerly, you unfolded the yellow post-it note and squeak.

_ You. Me. Lotte World, Thursday? _

_ p.s blink once for yes, blink twice for no. _

 


	12. Sungjin | We'll figure it out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [100 Ways to Say I Love You](http://daysixdreams.tumblr.com/loveyoudrabbles)

 

You’re the right (or wrong, depending on your point of view) kind of drunk and Sungjin knows how conflicted you are with every moment of it. On the grassy patch of land overlooking some tributary of the river, he sits next to you, arm’s length and uncharacteristically quiet. You take another swig of your soju straight from the bottle, grimace and splutter out a cough and a whimper. Sungjin does not, and has not tried, to stop you. In circumstances such as this one, his philosophy is to never condone the use of alcohol as a coping mechanism. Drinking, after all, always brought with it such a lovely rose hued perspective. It took off the harsh edges of the city, made the world the right kind of fuzzy.

“I really fucked up,” you mutter, wiping your mouth with the back of your shaking hand. “So epically, so fantastically, just so fuckingly fucked up.”

Amused, Sungjin twirls a blade of grass between his thumb and forefinger. He casts a perfunctory glance your way, unable to mask the amusement on his face. “Bad things happen,” he offers, sympathetically.

“Not to me!” you wheeze, all red and blotchy.

He shrugs, unaffected by the ire in your voice and the spite in your eyes. “Happens to the best of us.”

“No,” you assert, jabbing a finger into his collarbones. “Shit happens to people not me.” Jab.  “Irresponsible.” Jab. “Reckless.” Jab. “Arrogant.” Jab. “People. Not. Me.” Jab, jab, jab.

Aggrieved, Sungjin rubs the sore spot under his collarbones. “I really hope you’re not talking about _me_.”

Sungjin decides that this is how he likes you best. Unguarded and honest, and utterly see-through. If he were any less of a gentleman, he would have kissed you and made it all better. But you are very nearly drunk, not to mention upset, and he prefers his women sober and calm, thank you very much. And, just for the record, Sungjin would never even dare think of doing anything remotely rude or disrespectful. But you did drunk-dial him, and by the powers that be, he would help you best as he can.

“We’ll figure it out,” he says. “I’ll be right here every step of the way.”

 

 


	13. Sungjin | Can I kiss you?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [100 Ways to Say I Love You](http://daysixdreams.tumblr.com/loveyoudrabbles)

 

Sometimes after a gig, Sungjin asks to walk with you a bit before you go your separate ways. During the summer, when the nights are hot and humid, the two of you would take the long route along the riverside, always a friendly distance away from each other. Sometimes you’d walk nearer, close enough for the back of your hand to brush against his, but Sungjin would nervously laugh and step away. 

Sometimes Sungjin talks about his day, about his bandmates, and about his music. Some nights he talks about his dreams, his childhood, and you think to yourself how could anyone be this beautiful and this perfect? Other nights you walk in companionable silence.

Tonight is one of those quiet nights.

Tonight you close your eyes and breathe in the musky air and summer and nostalgia. When you open your eyes, Sungjin is looking at you and you can tell he wants to kiss you. So you look at him through hooded eyes.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks. Finally. You very nearly let your composure slip and snort. Of course, he would ask.

He must recognize the signals at least, that you could not want him more than this. Then, with his eyes just barely closed, he leans in slowly. Your breathing quickens, and his breathing deepens, and a few moments pass right before he touches his lips to yours. Sungjin brings his lips to yours in the softest way, you could barely feel him against your mouth. Sungjin, ever so gentle like seafoam on the shore and sand on your skin.

It feels like spinning in the ocean and learning to breathe.

On the way back, he takes your hand and laces your fingers together. You look down at your intertwined fingers, then look up at Sungjin’s eyes and you see him smiling at you. It’s then you think to yourself, how could anyone be so beautiful and perfect like this?

 


	14. Young K | Don't cry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [100 Ways to Say I Love You](http://daysixdreams.tumblr.com/loveyoudrabbles)

 

There was a fine line between being someone’s best friend and someone’s, well,  _ not _ -best-friend, and Brian knew that very well. He knew it so well the knowledge burned in his mind and repeatedly engraved itself in his chest causing him to be unable to think or breathe. It was such a fine thread separating those two entities that it could easily break if he so wish it, that he so often found himself crossing that boundary beyond his conscious state of self. He was well aware of the fact that all he ever was and all he could ever be to her was a supporting cast member in a romance novel. The tragic romantic second lead who never got the girl despite his efforts— wasn he even that?—he was her best friend. That was the role he would play, and that was where he firmly drew the uncrossable line between them.

He found her on the roof deck, and Brian joined her where she sat. He eased himself up the elevated platform and crossed his stretched legs at his ankles and rested his weight on his hands behind him. Her eyes were red and puffy.

“Don’t cry,” he said, “He’s not worth it.”

She bit down hard on her knuckles and started whimpering. He understood her frustrations and he wanted to take them all away. He was capable of taking her away, too. All it would take was just one look from her, and he would take her away from everything that hurt her, everything that put her down. He moved closer and wrapped his arm around her, held her close against his chest.

It wasn’t her ideal picture, he knew, but for tonight he wanted to be the one by her side. Brian knew that he alone wouldn’t possibly be enough for her, but just for tonight he would be her shelter. Just as he did so long ago, he would do the same now. He would never leave her side. Even when all he could ever be is the romantic second lead who would never be able to sweep her off her feet, Brian would stay by her side. He would be the one to take all her hurts when she couldn’t anymore.

_ I’ll take care of you. I’ll protect you. I’ll make you happy. _ There was no way he could ever be capable of making such words come true. All he could do was sit there with her and console her. He couldn’t even hold her the way he wanted to.

But for now, this would be enough.

 


	15. Young K | Go back to sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [100 Ways to Say I Love You](http://daysixdreams.tumblr.com/loveyoudrabbles)

 

Sometimes in the middle of the night, Brian wakes to his phone ringing. Blindly, he reaches out for his phone on his nightstand, filtering out profanities from his roommate Jae and his cries of My friend, my brother, I love you but I’m trying to sleep. Some of us don’t have the luxury of a girlfriend so please, kindly be considerate. Brian ignores Jae and answers the call. For the record, you weren’t his girlfriend. Yet. He hasn’t asked, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t about to. Just not at this hour of the night. He snuggles back to bed, turns to his side, balances his phone on top of his ear, and closes his eyes.

Your voice through the receiver is frantic and punctuated with sobs and squeaks. “Bri?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you there?”

“I just answered the phone, didn’t I?” He’s not quite awake enough for this conversation.

“No need to be snippy! I…It’s just…He left! He left just like that, he thinks he’s doing her a favor and that he has her best interest at heart but that’s not what she wants why are boys so ridiculously stupid!”

“Are we talking about a real person or are we talking about a fictional couple?” He hears you pause to take a breath, and he can’t help but chuckle himself. “Go back to sleep, baby. I love you.”

Nothing. Dead air. Static.

“You still there?” he asks. It then dawns on him, just exactly what he said. He’s said it before, of course. In his head. To the air. To his reflection in the mirror when he’s practicing the lines for when he gathers the courage to finally tell you.

“What did you say?” you gasp.

Brian is fully awake now. “I…”

“God, Brian, you’re disgustingly sappy,” Jae groans from his side of the room. “I can never look at you the same way ever again.”

“I love you,” Brian says again.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I’ll let you sleep now. Good night.”

“Good night.”

“I love you, too.”

The last thing Brian hears is the slamming of their door, and Jae muttering something about sleeping in Sungjin’s room for the next couple of days. On the bunk above him, Dowoon sleeps like a baby.

 


	16. Jae | I picked these for you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [100 Ways to Say I Love You](http://daysixdreams.tumblr.com/loveyoudrabbles)

 

You met Jae on a Sunday morning. For reasons still unbeknownst to you, you were compelled by some universal force to walk into the shady looking off-the-wall record shop down the street from the cafe you were supposed to meet your friends ten minutes ago. Supposed to, because they’re running late and you didn’t want to sit there waiting for them for another hour. Jae was strumming on his beat up guitar, sitting comfortably on top of the counter with his feet up, oblivious to the passing of time and space around him.

You walked in to the tinkle of the bell above the door, and immediately regretted it. The record shop was the kind that sold vinyl and vintage CDs. On the wall were guitars with names you could never remember, and all sounded the same to you. Jae glanced up, and you froze awkwardly hoping he’d ignore you.

But that wouldn’t be Jae-like.

Instead, he squinted at you from behind his too big wire-framed glasses and under his fluffy almost white hair. “Hey there.” He sounded like he’s known you forever, when you were pretty sure you’ve never even seen him before.

You remained stranded at the threshold. “I, uh, I’m just looking around?”

“You know,” he said, hopping off the counter and returning his guitar to its stand. “When someone new comes in, we have this tradition.”

You were regretting this decision more and more. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. We pick out a bunch of records that reflect our first impression of you.”

“I…you don’t…that’s…”

Jae rummaged through the stacks before him, deftly going record through record, like revisiting old friends, nostalgia palpable in the expression on his face. You couldn’t help but stare in return. “I’m Jae, by the way. What’s your name?”

“…not necessary…”

He looked up, pushing his glasses up his nose. “That’s unfortunate. Why would your parents name you Not Necessary? Didn’t they want you?”

You were confused then, beautiful boy and goofy boy was a rare combination. But you still couldn’t figure out what to say so you just stared at him. You couldn’t even look away anymore.

“Here,” he said, picking out three records from the stack. “I picked these for you.”

The Beach Boys (1974), Endless Summer

Etta James (1961), At Last

The Beatles (1963) I Want to Hold Your Hand/I Saw Her Standing There

You didn’t even feel any regret ditching your friends that day. Until much later, when Sungjin would tell you that no such tradition exists and that Jae probably just made it up that day because he thought you were cute. And that Jae might have been heavily medicated, but that’s for another conversation altogether.

 


	17. Jae | I think you're beautiful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [100 Ways to Say I Love You](http://daysixdreams.tumblr.com/loveyoudrabbles)

 

You don’t panic very often, but when you do it’s usually Jae’s fault.

You stare at your screen, internally screaming at yourself for something you now can’t take back. It’s too late. You’ve already said it. You will just have to forever live with the consequences of your careless fingers. There are worse things, you say to yourself. Like you could’ve said it out loud instead. You could’ve blurted out such a thing while you and Jae were walking towards your next class. Or maybe when, sometimes, he takes you out for smoothies like the good friend that he is. Or maybe, perhaps the most frantic of them all, when he walks you home at night and the street lamps hit his face just right and you know it’s not the yellow lights above that’s making him glow. He glows on his own, and that’s how you know you’re too far gone.

Breathe.

Relax.

Five minutes later, and still nothing. Your phone displays the last thing you’ve sent him and this time you crawl under your covers and scream into your pillow, ignoring your roommate’s shushing you— she’s studying for an important exam but so what? This is you life we’re talking about. You’re in a legitimate emergency and nothing is going to make this right.

Nothing, except the totally unnecessary and frantic knocking at your door. Your roommate is ignoring it on purpose. That’s fair. You don’t even bother righting yourself, it’s probably just your neighbour from across the hall needing something, some book, notes, whatever, and it’s not like you need to look like you’re about to slay the heavens for that.

Except…

Jae is standing outside your door, some package in a brown paper bag cradled in his hands.

“Did you actually mean what you said?”

You close the door in his face, pat down your hair, straighten your shirt and your pyjama bottoms, then open the door again. “Look…I’m sorry—”

“I think—”

“I don’t know what I was saying—”

“I mean, yeah we’ve been friends a while like—”

“Like I think I’m half-asleep but—”

“I think you’re beautiful, too.”

“And I know that I’m just–what?”

Jae offers you the paper bag, and you peer inside to find your favourite ice cream flavour. You look up at him, his nearly white hair in a fluffy mess on top of his head. That’s when you notice that he, too, was in his pyjamas. His glasses were askew, and you reach out to right them on his nose.

“What did you say?” you ask again.

“I think you’re beautiful. Always have.”

“So…you ran all the way here to say that?”

He shrugs, like it’s the most normal thing to do. “Had to be sure. Also, ice cream. Can’t send ice cream through the phone.”

You close the door behind you, and the two of you sit outside in the hall in amicable silence, smiling at each other unsure what to say first.

Jae breaks the quiet streak. “So I didn’t bring a spoon and I think the ice cream’s melting.”

How romantic.

 


	18. Young K | Stay over

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [100 Ways to Say I Love You](http://daysixdreams.tumblr.com/loveyoudrabbles)

 

This is how Brian wants to spend his Sunday mornings, tangled in each other’s arms under the sheets. Your small back lined perfectly against his chest, and he can hear the delicate thud-thud of your heartbeat as your breaths sync to a time measure Brian calls this-is-kind-of-perfect.

But it’s only Saturday night, so Brian tightens his hold on your waist and mutters into your ear, “Stay over.”

You raise your head and reach out for your phone somewhere on his nightstand. You check the time and sigh. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

You don’t have to look at him to know he has unleashed that pout at you. And that is why you don’t look at him. Brian knows it’s your weakness and uses it against you as much as he is able. But it’s not going to work tonight. Even if you did want to stay. How much you want to stay like this. “We’re really having this conversation again?”

“Just stay, please?”

Brian pulls you even closer and buries his head in your neck, inhaling the sweet scent of your soap and shampoo and detergent. Your resolve very nearly falters. “It’s almost time.”

“No,” he whines. “It can’t be. You just got here.”

It’s been three hours, actually. Three hours of the two of you cuddling, listening to each other’s silence, memorizing the way the spaces of your fingers fit perfectly with each other’s. This is how you fall in love with him all over again. With the way he mumbles your name, the way his eyes crinkle, the way his nose scrunches up, and the way he keeps nagging for attention…you could go on listing hundreds, even thousands of reasons why you should stay the night.

But you also have four very convincing reasons to be jumping out of Brian’s bed right about now.

Park Sungjin

Park Jaehyung

Kim Wonpil

Yoon Dowoon

And the sound of the door to their shared apartment opening, letting in the sound of Sungjin’s voice calling out for Brian, Jae’s incoherent yelling, Wonpil’s announcing Pilimiri’s home, and Dowoon…well…you’re pretty sure Dowoon’s there even if you can’t hear him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” you say, reluctantly pulling yourself away from Brian’s embrace. You kiss the tip of his nose. “Maybe one day soon, yeah?”

 

 


	19. Young K | comfort

 

Some nights are longer than others, but tonight is simply unbearable. What’s wrong? you ask yourself.  _ Nothing _ .  _ Nothing, right? Nothing’s wrong. _ So you breathe because it’s all you can do. In through the nose, and out through the mouth. You breathe because the moment you distract yourself from the way the air smells like burnt rubber, the tears will come streaming down your face.

You tell yourself it’s ridiculous, but some nights simply are. In the darkness of the late evening hour, your shoulders groan under the weight of your backpack and your feet rebel against the soles of your sneakers. You convince yourself you’re a traveller journeying the unexplored city, but tonight you can’t escape the truth that is two jobs and university.

You wonder since when did the day start being this long.

Sighing, you push yourself off to a walk but your shaking legs only take you as far as the corner before you’re reduced to a crumpled mess on the curb. It’s just five more minutes to the bus station, you tell yourself. But the rest of you has already given up so now you’re doubled over yourself and biting into your hand just so you don’t cry.

Still, it could be worse.

And as if your imagination had dared the universe to test your limits, footsteps draw closer towards you. Panic takes over momentarily, and you can do this, right? You can run if you have to?

Instead, you hear your name softly called out. This will be one of those things you’ll never know for sure how to categorize. Good, bad, worse. But all that doesn’t matter anymore when Brian drops to his knees, gently lifts your face, and smiles into you eyes.

“Hi.”

You tell yourself you won’t cry. “Hey. I...dropped something.”

He doesn’t believe you, but he doesn’t say that. What he does say is, “Did you find it?”

“It’s not really that important,” you say. “It was just a button. What are you doing here?”

“What do you mean what am I doing here? I came to walk you home?”

“But…” you lose your trail of thought when he takes your bag and pulls you to your feet. You’re busy, is what you thought you’d say. Busy with school, busy with rehearsals, busy with everything you would never dare compete with.

“But I think I was a couple of minutes late,” he says, taking your hand and entwining your fingers together. “Sungjin kept making us repeat the bridge of that last song we were working on. I think we went through it more times than the actual song itself.”

“He did?” You say only because the moment is unreal. Could you have imagined Brian? Have you fainted and are in fact dreaming? Are you actually hallucinating? But Brian laughs and no sound could ever be that sweet.

“I wanted to surprise you,” he says. “I should have called anyway.”

You shake your head. “No, thank you for being here tonight.”

By some miracle, or perhaps it’s in the strength of Brian’s hold on your person, you both make it to the bus, to seats at the very back, and not once did you falter. Like this, you allow yourself to breathe. Really breathe. He puts his arm around you and settles your weight into him. You fit your head under his chin, and the heaviness you’ve felt for the longest time begins to lift.

He cradles your head with his hand, holding you tightly against him. And this is how the words spill out of your mouth without prior composition. This is how you let the tears fall. There isn’t a reason, you say to him. You feel stupid, you add. But Brian only whispers that it’s okay. That if you want to cry, then cry as much as you need to. And as you let the warm tears fall onto his shirt— making no effort to clamp them off— he tells you about the first time he saw you. He talks about thinking you were pretty. About telling Dowoon. About how neither of them having any ideas how to approach to you. He tells you about the last song he wrote, and how it could be about the two of you. He tells you he misses you. He tells you he’s sorry he can’t make all the things that hurt you go away.

The things that hurt you may never go away, but there you are sitting in a bus next to a boy who loves you. 

Somehow you just know it can’t get any better than this.

 


	20. Young K | Mistletoe Mishaps

 

Word of advice: the spiked sparkly candy peppermint drink is  _ not _ a suitable beverage when  _ festive _ is the last thing you’re feeling as a side effect of your world crashing down upon you. Granted, the sugar and the alcohol do wrap up the flaming freefall that is your life in a most spectacular fashion. Quite a sight, that. Inebriation always did do you well, what with the world in such a rosy glow, the edges softened and the harsh lights blurred. If only the feeling wasn’t fleeting at its best and a precursor for Bad Decisions at its chaotic worst. It’s just exactly what you don’t need at a time like this—a drink to utterly destroy whatever good sense you have left.

But never mind that. The whole idea of being here at all is to temporarily forget that a new year is about to begin and you’re still in the same state as you were when  _ this _ year began. As if there was an award for most unimproved, and you were in the running to win the worldwide championship. But you promised Sungjin you’ll go easy on the pity train accelerators so you muster enough willpower to conjure one happy thought before you go crazy axe-murderer on the night before Christmas.

That’s when Brian Kang filters into your line of sight.

And you’re back to Crazy Axe Murderer.

Look at that, a flip-switch.

Tamping down the urge to destroy something, you refocus your attention to the kitchen counter currently overflowing with flour, sugar, chocolate chips, and strawberries. Soda cans crowded the table as did a few mugs of the spiked candy peppermint mocha drink and other half-finished beverages; they competed for space with freshly refilled pretzel bowls and crumpled candy wrappers. The night’s festivities are just about warming up, replacing the swooping chill that comes in every time someone opens the front door to let more people in. The house is packed, seemingly to the brim, with close friends and acquaintances across degrees of separation. You came early, straight from your last day of work, still carrying the baggage—physical and emotional—permanently attached to your person. Tonight is about letting go. Having fun. Relaxing. Holiday spirit, and all that.

The euphoria, however spread throughout the house like a contagion and gaining momentum the night goes on, has not quite infected you despite having been one of the first few to arrive. Not even Sungjin’s company lifted your mood, and there’s no other better pick-me-up than hanging out with Mr. Fix It Bob the Builder himself. But, and you’re so sure of it, if you stick around long enough you just might loosen up.

It’s a good plan. A sensible plan. Though, apparently, not the plan the universe had in mind. More on that later. Right now, your only plan of action is aggressively  _ not _ looking at Brian and  _ not _ trying to catch his eye from across the room.

You’ve heard of him, naturally. With such a closely knit circle of friends, it’s hard not to. Everybody’s a little in love with Brian Kang. Everybody talks about him, all the time, and always in the best light, you feel as if you know him personally too. You’ve been introduced, of course. You might even hazard the assumption that he remembers your name and where and when you met. But that’s not really the point is it? As far as bad first impressions go, yours had not been the worst, but it sure had been memorable.

“You’re not still thinking about it, are you?” Sungjin asks, concern overflowing from his features.

You roll your shoulders, most certainly making sure _not_ to catch Brian in your peripheral vision. He’s wearing the fluffiest hoodie ever and he just looks so warm and toasty. “No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I am sure. I’m not thinking about it. Why would I still be thinking about it? I’m not thinking about The Incident with That Guy.”

Sungjin barely hides a smirk. “I’m sure you’re not. But I also could be talking about any number of things, and  _ that _ ’s the first one you think of? Sure, you’re not thinking about it at all.”

“Shut up,” you mutter under your breath.

“Because it’s been a year.”

Almost exactly a year, give or take another hour or so. “Why are we still talking about this?”

“ _ You _ ’re still talking about it.”

In a nutshell: Last year at the same Christmas party, you were introduced to the rest of rabble that is Sungjin’s friends. The introduction was innocuous enough. _Hi, hello, I’m the new person in the group_. _Nice to meet you_. That was you, all grateful and reflective at the end of the year and wide-eyed and optimistic for the new one coming ahead. That was before you decided to quit your regular nine-to-five to pursue your passion. That was minutes before Brian Kang happened to you.

It really shouldn’t be much of an issue. As far as you’re conerned  _ it’s not _ . But moments like this, when you had to be around the guy, The Incident bugs you like an itch you can’t reach. The feeling burns just beneath your skin, bothersome and irritating. Like the guy, himself.

Anyway, so there you were being introduced around and that was all well and good. Then, Brian. That’s a moment you can’t quite get out of your mind. Setting aside that it’s forever ingrained in your mind as an Incident warranting capitalization, it was quite magical. One does not simply forget the first time you see Brian’s face—eyes burning with passion and a strong wiry frame. He said hi, and thank heavens for Sungjin making the introduction because you just forgot your own name.

But because the Universe has a sense of humor, the moment you and Brian were in the same breathing space, someone (you still haven’t gotten back at Wonpil for this) just had to yell out you were under the mistletoe. All of a sudden, all eyes were on you. Every single one in the room, in bated breath waiting—just waiting—for that kiss they were all sure would come. As if being at the center of attention wasn’t embarrassing enough, Brian just had to lock those feline eyes on you, smile that shy, crooked grin, and lean in close.

It’s at that moment that three realizations became apparent:

First, though it might not be your first kiss, you’ve never kissed someone you’ve literally just met. You were not about to start now.

Second, though it might not mean anything as the context for this kiss was out of tradition, you did not want to be kissed out of obligation. Kisses meant something to you.

And last, if you were to kiss this boy in any context at all, you wanted it to be on your terms. These were not your terms.

You did the only logical thing you could think of.

You slapped him.

In your defense, you panicked.

After all, it’s not everyday a ridiculously attractive guy whom you’ve just met willingly and knowingly attempts to kiss you. Chastely. At least at first. From what you’ve heard about him, Brian seems like the type to go slow at first. Agonizingly slow, so slow he can’t go any slower until you’re left under his mercy before going to the next level and—

That’s not really the issue here.

The issue here is after you slapped him (some sources assert that you punched him in the nose) you pushed him away, and then you stormed off in .

So much for an introduction.

Given that you’re still invited to this year’s party, your little faux pas had not ruined your chances at making friends with these beautiful and talented people. Instead, The Incident became one of those stories that have reached terminal velocity, thus giving you Legend status among the group. It’s not so bad half the time, mostly it’s just Wonpil’s teasing that gives you a headache. Other than that, it’s nice being the one No One Messes With. That’s a nice touch.

Except it doesn’t work on Sungjin. Too bad.

“I’m not talking about anything,” you hiss. “Especially not  _ that _ .”

You are also not keeping Brian just at the edge of your vision. Even when he’s a blurry shape swimming in your periphery, he still manages to stir the riot in your ribcage. His breathing alone is cause for contempt. How dare he exist. For the record, it’s not because you’re watching him. You’re not obsessed with him or anything. You’re just really,  _ really _ careful about being in the same breathing space as he is. Best to keep your distance. For everyone’s safety. Your sanity, most of all.

Anyway, back to current events. “I’m really not.”

Sungjin all but rolls his eyes at you. “I’ve stopped talking about it, like, five minutes ago.”

Boisterous laughter sounded across the hall as Jae bowed with a flourish at the end of his magic trick. A deck of cards fell from his pocket, and he rushed to collect himself as Jimin started another round of teasing. Jae handed his materials to a red-faced Dowoon who acted as his unwilling assistant. Still blushing hard, Dowoon grabbed Jae’s things and returned to the other corner of the room. Back to where it’s safe, Dowoon shares a laugh with Brian, who smiles and probably gives the younger one a compliment, causing Dowoon to break into an embarrassed grin. Dowoon tries to shrug it off, but Brian elbows him and flashes an encouraging smile. Too many smiles, not enough, well, not enough what exactly? That’s when Brian glances your way. And then you’re locking gazes with Brian Kang.

Across the hall, you stare at each other. For how long, who knows for sure. It couldn’t have been a minute even, but it feels like an eternity is passing between you two. You read somewhere that it only takes three seconds for eye contact to be awkward, and about two minutes before the threshold for the release of all the good fuzzy bonding hormones to do their work, but you’re not sure what’s going on inside you right now. Slowly, he raised his mug toward you, pausing intentionally before taking a slow sip of his drink. Probably that spike sparkly peppermint candy drink. Curses.

Now you feel a blush spread across your cheeks.

Naturally, Brian smirks.

Why are you even blushing? It’s just Brian? And even if you did catch each other’s eye from across the room, so what? Never mind that it’s, well, a very intense stare. After your less than stellar introduction, you’ve avoided him. Brian is an unknown variable in your life. Other than what you’ve heard of him, you don’t really  _ know _ him. And maybe, just maybe, he’s using that against you? Unpredictability is one of those things you can’t deal with, and whether or not he knew this is irrelevant. Whatever he’s doing, it’s working.

So who could blame you when you finish the rest of your drink in one shot. Whatever alcohol is in there lights a trail down your throat and sparks a chain reaction from your mouth down to your stomach that brings you to a coughing fit. Half-blind and choking at the thick mocha, you fumble for a glass of anything to cool down and clear up the fireworks in your mouth. Sungjin is all things disappointed as he picks you up by the back collar and deposits you away from the counter so you don’t break anything. Then he hands you a napkin to wipe the thin trail of chocolate dribbling down your chin.

“Try not to make a tradition of making a scene every Christmas party. The others might come to expect it annually from now on.”

You glare at him from behind a glass. It’s empty. Fantastic. By now, you’re just about giving in to the sad truth that what you need is another drink. And you’re not talking about water.

If you’re going to survive the rest of this night, you’re going to need just the right buzz not to freak out at Brian while not going shrinking violet in a corner. That’s just sad and pathetic, and while you’ve got a ticket to Sad and Pathetic Town, you’re also actively breaking away from this negativity. You don’t need this in your life right now.

Agreeing with your better judgment, you leave Sungjin behind and procure yourself another mug of that drink—at this point you won’t be surprised if it’s Jae’s contribution to this party. As you pour yourself another mug-full from the thermos, you notice Brian enter the dining room through the side door. He takes one look at your bewildered and bitter state, refills his mug with the same drink, and leans his hip against the table to park himself next to you.

“Not bad, yeah?” he says, raising his mug. “I like it. Tastes like Christmas.”

“What does that even mean?” you wheeze.

Brian looks down at his drink, as if analyzing the frothy swirls and the red and green candy sprinkles. You press forward, curious to what he sees. When you raise your eyes, that’s when you see that he’s watching you watch him. In mild amusement, maybe. His gaze doesn’t waver and, because he’s not looking away, you don’t look away.

“It’s…festive? Look, it even has all the Christmas colors and everything.”

This is bad. Brian isn’t making a move to leave. Is it possible that he actually wants to talk to you? Willingly spend time with you? Even after what happened last Christmas?

“What…are you doing?” you ask.

“Getting more of this drink,” he answers without missing a beat.

“No, I mean…” you struggle to find the words. “I mean, here with me. What are you doing here with me?”

He shrugs. “You just happened to be in the same room where the drinks are?”

“You’ve got you drink, why aren’t you leaving yet?”

He smirks. “Why aren’t  _ you _ ?”

“I got here first,” you mutter petulantly. “And I’ll leave when I want to.”

Brian chuckles softly under his breath. “Careful, I might start thinking you don’t like me.”

You clutch you head with one hand. “Ugh. No. This can’t be happening.”

“What can’t be happening?”

“ _ This _ .”

“This?”

“ _ This. _ ” You gesture wildly between you and him and back again. “You. Me. Conversation. We don’t do conversation. We don’t  _ anything _ . There is no  _ we _ .”

Brian still looks amused. “But it’s Christmas? Even if what you say is true—and it’s not—shouldn’t it be a time for forgiving? To let bygones be bygones?”

“Why wouldn’t what I say be true?”

“Because…I get the feeling you don’t really like me.”

“Well, that’s because you don’t like  _ me _ .”

“But I don’t not like you.”

You step away, head reeling from the double negative. “What? That’s…No. See, last year, I remember clearly.”

“Oh.” Realization dawns on his face. “You’re talking about last year? That’s what this is about? I’m so sorry. You’re right, I never did get to apologize for that because you keep avoiding me. It’s not like no one hasn’t noticed you leave the room as soon as I enter it. I mean, it’s cool and everything I don’t mind. But it’s really inconvenient sometimes. And I do want to talk to you.”

You blink and take another step back. “Why would you apologize to me? I punched your face.”

It seems, that the night is just about to make a turn into the Strange category.

“Can’t say I didn’t deserve it,” he muses out loud. “I mean, I should’ve probably gave you some warning before, you know. I’m sorry. I wasn’t really going to, uh, kiss you. I mean, not…really  _ kiss _ you. Not that I didn’t want to? Or that kissing you is such a terrible punishment because it’s not? And…uh…yeah.”

“O…kay?”

He pushes his fringe off his face, eyes darting away as he catches his breath. “I mean, I didn’t intend to freak you out. I was gonna ask, you know, if it was okay. But I didn’t want to ask out loud for everyone to hear because..that’s…I don’t know. Private, you know?”

“That’s…decent of you.”

“Not good enough, I guess. I’m sorry.”

You lean forward to better see the emotions splayed across Brian’s face. He’s always been the expressive sort, perhaps more than what you’re used to and that in itself is cause for fascination. You know of his honeyed words, the music that flows from his veins and brought life to the ice-cold muscle buried somewhere left-ish of your chest. It’s a personal moment, even for him, but you could no longer control your breaching of his personal space than you could the thoughts racing across your mind. You just can’t resist him.

“Apology not necessary.” Truly, at this point it feels silly. “But appreciated. Thank you. I’m sorry, too. For…you know.”

You didn’t really cause that much damage to his beautiful face. Just enough to stun him. You regretted it then, you still regret it now. More from shame, though there still remains a pang of regret.

“Thank you,” he says, “Can we just start over?”

You hold back a smile. “Sure.”

It occurs you just then, that you and Brian have never really spoken to each other. You’ve held this grudge against him for a year, battling your conflicting feelings about him simply because you couldn’t acknowledge the truth you’ve been denying all this time. So hyperfixated were you on that one moment, you refused to see the big picture. You refused to see Brian for who he is.

He holds out his hand. “I’m Brian, it’s nice to meet you.”

Gingerly, you slip your hand into his warm and firm grip as you introduce yourself. “It’s nice to meet you, too.”

A nervous glance up, and that’s when you see it. Brian sees it too, and pointedly looks away. Though, his gaze does land on you and does not let go.

“It’s not like anyone’s here,” he says, though his tone betrays his intentions. “We could just pretend it’s not there…”

You keep your gaze anywhere else but at Brian’s face. The fingers on Brian’s hand holding the mug twitched, time slowed, and your breath came out perhaps for the last time at this moment. What’s going on? What’s happening? Is Brian really considering kissing you? Do you want him to? Are you just imagining all this?

Brian sets down the mug on the table and you do the same.

Oh, what the heck.

He releases a shaky breath. “So, I guess…I should…get back out there.”

“Oh. Is that what you want?”

“Well. You know…”

“Brian?”

“Yeah?”

“Did you…do you…want to, uh, kiss me? Just now?”

“Not without your permission.”

Heavens, this boy.

You push yourself up your toes, and very slowly, very carefully, press a soft kiss at the corner of his lips. He tastes like peppermint and mocha… _ festive _ . He doesn’t move. Not really. He breathes, though heavily. As if he’s afraid this moment isn’t real.

Easing out of his space, you suppress a shudder and the urge to kiss him again. Properly, this time. After all, it’s not like he’s a guy you just met anymore. Or that you’re about to deny to yourself, of all people, that yes you are in fact attracted to this person in perhaps an unhealthy amount but never mind that. Face hot and flushed, you mumble something resembling both an apology and thanks at the same time. For Brian’s part, he looks pleased.

Until you hear a gasp and a giggle. Wonpil slaps his hand over his mouth and ducks away from the door.

That went well.

 


End file.
